The "Stinger's" a poet,
Knows a sheep from a goa-et,
And he stings at random all day;
He thinks he's a honey,
Because he's so funny—
For reference see A. B. J.
—_Progressive Bee-Keeper_
No, I'm not a poet,
Neither did I know-et,
Nor do I sting all the livelong day;
Once a week I've some fun
Making you folks jump and run—
So, what more do you wish me to say?
* * * * *
A certain editor reckoned without his host when he tried to heap more
accomplishments upon Editor York than the latter was entitled too.
Though Mr. York is a hard working man in the office of the BEE JOURNAL,
he is saved the task of doing the stinging; which is, at times, hard
work, for some of the people and things that "The Stinger" has to
punctuate are pretty tough.
* * * * *
I think the reason why Editor York is not a "Stinger" is because he
has not had much to do with the Punics. If he knew from practical
demonstrations what those bees were, he would probably become a
stinger, too. This is not intended as a joke on somebody's bees.
* * * * *
Rambler was hurt at last. For a time he was confined to the hospital,
where I send all those who have been hit with my darts. He announced
his injury in the BEE JOURNAL for Dec. 7, 1893, page 730, and he
thought the wound inflicted by me must have been produced by a ramrod
out of my gun. If he had been hurt as badly as he admitted he was, I am
surprised. When my sting penetrated his thick hide he must have seen
stars, consequently, at the same time, he had no trouble in magnifying
a sting into the proportions of a ramrod. I would say in a fatherly
way: My dear Rambler, keep your nose from rambling around in the loose
way that you have been letting it stray about, and there will be little
danger of its running up against the sting of The Stinger.
* * * * *
Rambler says he smiled a "smole" when his nose came in contact with
my "stinger." Stings seem to have the same effect upon him that
laughing-gas has upon a patient in a dentist's chair. Rambler, beware,
for have you not heard that "laughing often comes to crying?" The next
time we may hear from you, you may be sitting in a corner crying,
because the sting got into your nose a little below the tip, and it is
hurting you in a way that a sting never troubled you before.
* * * * *
The mission of The Stinger is to reform the bee-keeping world. (Did I
hear you say that that is impossible, dear reader?) There is no man
in the world that needs reforming more than the Rambler, and so his
threats to expose me if I do not cease troubling him, fall upon me as
uselessly as if he had never uttered them. For shame, on you, Rambler!
to intimate that you will silence my pen. You might as well try to melt
the snow on the tops of the high mountains away back of where you live,
with that genial smile of yours, as to keep The Stinger from performing
his mission. Rambler, beware of the day when I shall meet you in battle
array.
* * * * *
Some one has sent me a copy of the December number of the _California
Cultivator and Poultry Keeper_. It is a nice publication, but I do not
see how it manages to live under such a load of a name. As it has a
well edited apiary department, I imagine that the publisher will some
day add _Bee-Keeper_ to the already long title.
* * * * *
A correspondent writes to know if The Stinger is a woman; she says
she thinks The Stinger must be a female, because males do not sting.
I would inform the fair writer, and all other persons who have doubts
as to the sex of The Stinger, that he is a male; this male stings, if
other males do not.
* * * * *
What is the difference between a swarm of bees and a sewing bee?